Love in Bloom (19 page)

At ten, she turned off the light and burrowed under the covers, hugging her pillow. Her day had started out so great. Why did he have to go and spoil it?

He came to bed not long after her. She could sense him leaning over her to see if she was awake, but she kept her eyes shut until he settled down with his back to her. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk about her future, and the last person she wanted to talk about it with was him.

When his breathing finally became deeper and steadier, she opened her eyes and stared into the dark at the everyday things that took on new identities with the night. The old dresser lurked
against the wall like a monster waiting to pounce. The chair next to the bed with her clothes draped over it felt like some entity crouching next to her. Sleep, that blessed shield, lay a million blinks away.

She used to sleep great at night, but those were the days when she snuggled into bed next to Ty wearing nothing but a smile. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to conk out. She started by counting sheep. Somewhere along the way, the sheep morphed into giant bunnies with big, veggie-devouring fangs.

Okay, that did it. Time to get up. She padded to the kitchen and made herself a cup of chamomile tea, then stood drinking it and looking out the window. If only she could gather all the bad feelings dirtying up the house and throw them in the lake.

She poured the last half of her tea down the sink with a sigh. What she needed to sleep well couldn't be put in a mug. She went back to bed and slipped in next to Ty. Then she hugged her pillow and shut her eyes. At least she could pretend to sleep, and maybe, if she pretended long enough, she would.

At some point she did, but she woke up the next morning feeling unrested and grumpy. She needed mommy R & R. “I've got some errands to run,” she told Ty. Her voice was still full of leftover snottiness from the night before, but she didn't care.

“Are you taking Seth?” he asked. He sounded stiff, like his jaw had locked in its clenched condition.

She shook her head. “You guys are on your own.”

“I was going to drop off some apps.”

Sure he was. “I'll be back by noon,” she said. If she didn't return to find him camped in front of the tube, it would be a miracle.

Her first stop was Kizzy's Kitchen, the place to look for lavender sugar to use in her baking. The kitchen shop occupied space in one of the buildings on Lake Way, the downtown's main street, between Front Porch Furnishings and Something You Need. As with all the shops in town, the street number was painted on a flat, pink, wood heart positioned to the left of the front door. Amber looked at
that little heart and thought of one of her mother's favorite sayings:
Home is where the heart is
. If that was the case, she and Ty were on the verge of being homeless.

The kitchen shop was a cook's dream, full of goodies, gadgets, cookbooks, tea towels, aprons, and oven mitts that Martha Stewart would kill for. A cheery display of copper pots and pans hung in one corner. Now, that was what Amber wanted in her kitchen someday, if she ever could afford a house again—lots and lots of copper cookware. She'd buy out the whole display. And she'd have a big kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, and an island where she could whip up incredible desserts.

For now, all she'd be buying was lavender sugar. She drifted to the section of the store that had been set aside for baking and immediately got sucked in by the row of bins housing every kind of cookie cutter imaginable. Amber loved cookie cutters. She owned everything from alphabet letters to angels. Of course, she had all the traditional holiday cookie cutters, too. But here was one she didn't have. Shaped like a tulip in full bloom, it was perfect for her new life. And it would be perfect for lavender cookies. Now, if she could just find some lavender sugar.

Kizzy, the shop owner, was more than happy to help her. In her full-length red apron with its heart appliqué, she looked like she should be on a cooking show. Amber guessed this woman was somewhere around her mother's age, but she had no gray hair and her skin was smooth and dark as carved mahogany.

“Are you new in town?” she asked as she rang up Amber's purchases. “I could have sworn I knew every baker in Heart Lake.”

“I am, as a matter of fact, but I'm loving it here. And I love to bake. If these cookies turn out, I'm going to sell them at the farmer's market.”

“Maybe you should be making them at Sweet Somethings Bakery. Sarah Goodwin is a friend of mine. I could speak to her.”

“How about telling her to give me a raise?” Amber joked.

Kizzy threw up her hands. “I should have known if there was new talent in town Sarah would find it.”

“Well, I don't know if she's quite discovered my talent. Right now I'm ringing up orders and making lattes.”

“You come up with some good stuff and she'll have you chained to the oven in no time, I can guarantee it,” Kizzy said, handing over the bag with Amber's purchases. “And you come back and see me again soon. Let me know how those cookies turn out.”

“I'll do better than that. I'll bring you some,” Amber offered.

Kizzy made the sign of the cross and shook her head violently. “I couldn't. I'm a member of Cookies Anonymous. One bite and I'd be under the kitchen table with crumbs on my face. But they sound wonderful,” she added. “I'm sure they'll be a hit.”

Millie's house was Amber's next stop. She had to double-check the address when she pulled up in front of the place. What kind of bad karma was this? The house was big and boring, and it had no yard. Millie belonged in a little English cottage, or a farm house with flowers everywhere and a front walk made of paving stones. No wonder she was at the community garden so much.

Millie was ready for her. “I've got the water on,” she said, leading the way to the kitchen.

Amber followed her through a living room with big, leather furniture and a flat-panel TV. A black cat with white front paws trotted out from behind a chair and followed them into the kitchen.

“Now, you know you've been fed. Nothing more until to night,” Millie told it.

But once they were in the kitchen, she caved and dished a couple of spoonfuls into the cat's bowl. “I'm a bit of a pushover,” she confessed.

Amber couldn't help wondering if that was how Millie had wound up out here at her daughter's house in the first place.

“These used to be the hit of my garden club meetings,” she said, handing over a sheet of paper with a beautifully scripted recipe. “I'm
so happy a whole new generation is going to be enjoying them. You know, for a while, lavender was considered rather an old-fashioned herb, but it's making a comeback.”

“I hope so,” Amber said.

“I'll give you my carrot cookie recipe, too. People will love those and come back for more.”

“Good. I need to make a pot of cash.”

“I'm sure you will. And before long, your husband will have a job and then you can keep what you make for pin money.”

That wiped the smile off Amber's face. “Only if he can move to Seattle.”

Millie wasn't looking so cheerful herself all of a sudden. “Oh. You're moving?”

“He wants to.”

“Does he have a job offer?” Millie became suddenly very busy setting the teapot and their cups and saucers on the kitchen table.

Amber perched on a kitchen chair and eyed the frosted cookies Millie had set out on a salad plate. “No. Seattle is just the latest plot of green grass.”

“Ah. The grass is always greener?”

“Something like that. But I like it here. I don't want to move, so I hope you're not going to suggest I just pick up and follow him.”

Millie nudged the plate her direction. “Have a carrot cookie.”

Amber took a cookie and bit into it. And was pleasantly surprised. “You're right. People will love these.”

Millie smiled as she settled herself at the table and poured tea into their cups. “They're perfect with a nice cup of tea. Constant Comment, my favorite,” she murmured. “I think it's a comforting tea.”

“I could use some comfort.” Emotion gathered in a tight ball in Amber's throat and she suddenly found it hard to swallow.

Millie leaned across the table and placed a hand on her arm. “Be patient, dear. These difficult times always feel like they'll never end. But trust me, they do.”

“I don't want to move again.” Amber could feel the tears rising in her eyes. She gave them an angry swipe. “I'm such a baby.”

“No, you're not.” Millie patted her arm. “And this will all work out, you'll see.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I'm going to pray about it,” Millie said firmly.

“Well, good luck with that,” Amber said, her voice seasoned with bitterness. “I think we've done something to piss God off.”

Millie settled back in her seat and took a sip of tea. “Oh, I don't know about that. I have a feeling it's about time for some good things to happen in your life.”

“I hope you're right.”

“I know I'm right. Don't get discouraged. Your life is like your garden.”

“That's a scary thought,” Amber said, looking warily at her.

“You plant your seeds, but it takes time for them to germinate. You don't see vegetables or even the promise of vegetables for a while, but they're still busy growing beneath the soil, getting ready to produce something wonderful for you. I think life is like that. At least, I hope it is.”

“Is that how it's worked for you?” Amber asked. If so, why did Millie look kind of sad all of a sudden?

“That's how I try to make it work,” Millie said. “It's the best I can do.”

“Well,” Amber said with a sigh, “all I can do is keep planting, I guess. I've got too much invested to quit.”

She thought of Hope Walker, working hard to turn her back on a scary past and seed her life with new, good things. And here was Millie, making friends in a new place. If they can keep working at it, so can I, she told herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

J
ASON STOPPED BY
the flower shop on Tuesday to see how Bobbi was doing.

As he leaned on the counter, spotlighted by mid-morning sunshine, Hope couldn't help lusting just a little over her sister's boyfriend. In his dusty jeans and work shirt, he was so very lustible. All that maleness, it charged her flower shop with electricity. Or maybe it was just her who was getting the charge.

Bobbi didn't seem to feel it all that much. Her smile was standard Bobbi issue. Yes, she wanted Jason Wells, but did she really WANT him?

“So, you're doing okay?” Jason asked Bobbi.

“Absolutely.” She slung an arm over Hope's shoulder. “Who needs the Last Resort anyway? I'm happy here with my sis, making art.” She turned to Hope. “That's what we're doing, isn't it?”

Hope nodded.
Way to be brilliant
. She was willing for Bobbi to
get Jason, totally willing. But just once she'd like to come across as more than a common dandelion. Hard to do when your sister was a stargazer lily.

Dandelions were pretty, too, she told herself. And useful, with edible leaves and petals that could be turned into wine.

“And my money problems are solved,” Bobbi was saying. “We're going to be roommates.”

Jason smiled at that. “That's got to be a chick thing.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bobbi.

“I tried being roommates with my brother. It lasted two months. We almost killed each other.”

“That's not going to happen to us,” Bobbi insisted. “We're not just sisters, we're best friends.” She gave Hope a squeeze.

“Absolutely,” Hope agreed, and squeezed back. And sisters shared. Everything. Except in the case of Jason, she could hardly call it sharing since he was all Bobbi's.

The phone rang. “I'll get it,” Bobbi said, picking up the receiver.

While she talked on the phone, Jason turned to Hope and asked in a low voice, “Is she going to be okay?”

“She'll be fine,” Hope assured him.

He drummed the counter, calling Hope's attention to his hands. They were big and work roughened. Strong hands. He looked to where Bobbi stood with her back to them, still busy on the phone. “I don't want to rush her to share personal stuff with me, but if she's got a problem, if she's got a big bill she can't pay . . .”

Thanks to her skill with a charge card, Bobbi always had bills, but they weren't anything she couldn't handle, especially with her rent now cut in half. She was doing fine. Hope shook her head, confused.

“Hospital bills?” he prompted.

“Hospital bills?” Hope repeated. What could her sister have told Jason to make him believe she had hospital bills? Someone in this shop had them, but it sure wasn't Bobbi.